Author's Note: My second Ginger Snaps one-shot! Probably not my last either. This is one of my favorite movies, after all. Ginger and Brigitte's bond is really interesting to me. I've seen all 3 movies multiple times, and I'm still not entirely sure if all the incest implications were on purpose or not. Most people say they were. Either way, it seems pretty damn canon to me. These are snippets of Ginger and Brigitte's relationship pre-movie, during the movie, and post-movie. Kind of angsty. This is a songfic, using You Are the Coffin by Flatsound. I recommend you listen to that while reading this. That song really fits their relationship during the first movie, in my opinion. The song lyrics are bolded and italicized. WARNING: This fic contains murder, mentions of pedophilia, references to suicide, kissing, blood, gore, animal death, incest, breath-play, unhealthy coping mechanisms, PTSD, dysfunctional relationships, menstruation, mentions of sex, mentions of drugs, and symptoms of anxiety disorders.
I am doing just fine, thank you
Ginger and Brigitte always know when the other is upset. It's part of their bond. Ginger often suggests that they have a form of minor telepathy. Brigitte calls it extreme empathy.
Either way, whenever Ginger asks how she is, Brigitte always replies with honesty. Even though the little voice of anxiety in her head tells her to lie and claim that she's fine, even when she feels like she's dying. But Ginger can see straight through that.
She's always been able to. As far as Brigitte knows, she always will be able to. But this is just another factor of their love that makes them closer.
I know how much you like to keep in touch
So you can talk about it
There are days when their relationship is dysfunctional. This comes as no surprise. They're much too close to not have bad days with each other.
They occasionally take out the bad things on each other. Not physical pain, but emotional. Sometimes Brigitte feels as though she's merely Ginger 2.0, a somewhat downgraded version of her older sister.
These feelings emerge on particularly bad days. Days when she feels as though Ginger treats her more like Tom Riddle's diary, than a person with thoughts and feelings of her own. One day Brigitte finally confesses these feelings, after Ginger pestering her about why she seems down.
Ginger is taken aback at first. She apologizes profusely, and vows to do better. Later that night, they share her bed. It's cramped, and too small for the both of them, but they both enjoy the close proximity.
Ginger holds her close, fingers tightly gripping her hand, as though she's terrified that any moment, Brigitte will let go. Brigitte quickly silences these fears, as she turns and kisses her sister, and feels her relax immediately. They sleep better that night than they have in a while.
And you said, who was that, who were you talking to?
Ginger is possessive. This is merely a fact of their relationship. It has always been this way. Before they became as close as they are now, and Brigitte would have little kid crushes on girls at school, Ginger would shun her.
Brigitte didn't understand until several years later, exactly why her sister was so possessive. As the years went by, Ginger became less like the person holding Brigitte's leash, and more like the dog leashed up with her. Still, there are days when Brigitte will be forced, by societal conventions, to talk to people that she knows Ginger hates.
Ginger will always ask her about it, getting defensive whenever Brigitte remarks that she needn't be jealous. That they belong to each other, and no one else. That statement is usually enough to calm her, and if it's not, a gentle kiss always is.
Is that the reason you're too scared to go downtown
And talk about it?
There is little that Ginger fears. There is, however, a short list. Brigitte knows every entry on the metaphorical paper. Male authority figures excluding our dad, the looming chance of them not getting out by 16, menstruation and they physical changes that come with it, losing Brigitte.
Ginger never shows her fear. Brigitte has only seen her cry once, since they were little kids. The night that Ginger cries, it wakes up Brigitte. She hears quiet sobs echoing around their room.
"Ginge?" Her voice is hoarse with sleep. "What happened? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Ginger chokes out. "Just a shitty dream is all. Go back to sleep."
Brigitte furrows her brow. Ginger has always been convinced that she must be strong, and not show weakness. Sometimes, even showing vulnerability to Brigitte is hard for her.
"No. I wanna make sure you're ok first. Come here."
Ginger hesitates, before climbing out of her own bed, and into Brigitte's. She curls her wiry body around Brigitte's smaller one. Brigitte feels hot tears on her skin. She holds Ginger close, and rubs her back soothingly.
"Wanna talk about it?" Her voice is soft. She's trying so hard to convey a message of you're safe, I love you and I'm here for you, you're safe.
"I dreamed you died. Without me. That's not how it's supposed to go."
Brigitte tightens her grip on Ginger, and kisses her head. "Don't be scared. It was just a dream. I'm ok. Everything's ok."
She said it's my own body, I did what I wanted
Ever since God made me bleed
Brigitte had never before thought that puberty could change someone so much. But her sister, usually repulsed by others, is now fucking guys from school, and getting high. Of course, Brigitte is really fucking worried.
She wonders if hormones can really change someone's personality so drastically. Ginger isn't acting like herself at all and Brigitte is scared. She wants her sister back.
He is a pedophile, you are the coffin
Ginger hates the janitor. She makes no effort to hide this fact. Possessive and protective of her sister, often to a fault, she sees something predatory in almost every man, whether it's really there or not.
She is convinced that the school janitor, who is seemingly always there when Brigitte needs his assistance, is preying on her little sister. Ginger wants him dead. He should die before he gets a chance to hurt her.
No wonder the perverted old man is attracted to Brigitte though. Brigitte is beautiful. Brigitte is everything.
She has the same beauty that Ginger finds in dead things. Brigitte has a secret darkness within her, and Ginger is the only one who can see it. In her sleep, Brigitte looks like the world's prettiest corpse.
Ginger hopes that, after their deaths, they will be able to see their funeral. She so badly wants to see Brigitte, arms crossed, in a wooden coffin. She wants to kiss her cold lips, after she dies.
And you're the reason that I can't breathe
They still do it now, sometimes. It's rare. A special treat for the bad days. On days where they both need to be reminded of how little anything outside the two of them matters.
It originated as a game they would play as children. Holding their breaths as long as possible. They would get such a feeling of euphoria.
Brigitte will lay back on the bed, Ginger on top of her. She will take as deep a breath as she can muster, and Ginger will lower her hands to her throat. She knows exactly how long and how hard to press down, and to stop immediately if Brigitte squeezes her shoulder.
When she does let go, Brigitte will breathe deeply, and smile. Ginger will smile back. There are no words that need to pass between them.
I'll sleep inside of your chest
And fight those thoughts in your head
Most nights, one will slip into the other's bed. It's for survival. For warmth. For coping.
They both have their own inner demons. They both have things that the other can't fix, no matter how much they might want to. But, they will curl around each other, forming a perfect shape, and they will listen to each other's hearts, and they will vow to fight the monsters that cause the other pain.
Some say we should take a rest
I think I'd rather be dead
Other people think that Ginger and Brigitte are much too closer. Perhaps they're right. Normal sisters don't only voluntarily spend time with each other. Normal sisters don't exchange blood. Normal sisters don't kiss.
Ginger is less worried about it than Brigitte. Brigitte, with her anxiety disorders and dependence on her sister, is much more in tune with what's considered appropriate. She cares about other people finding out. Ginger never has.
Normal sisters don't act like they do. But, whenever one of them catches the other's eye, or grabs the other's hand, they can't seem to care. This is why we're still alive. This is our reason to keep going. If they only have each other, then they'll damn well make the best of it.
Her own body, she did what she wanted
Ever since God made her bleed
If Ginger had been unreasonable before, now she's downright savage. Brigitte sees less and less of her other half, and more and more of the wolf. Ginger's changing into something else.
She's looking more lupine every day. Brigitte doesn't mind the physical changes much. It's the other ones that terrify her.
Ginger is unable to control her instincts now. If an animal scampers in her line of sight, she chases. If she smells blood, her mouth waters. If someone else touches Brigitte, Ginger is determined to kill them, and then rub herself all over Brigitte to get rid of their scent. (That last part isn't something Brigitte would mind, under different circumstances.)
She needs to find a cure, and she needs to find it as soon as possible. For Ginger's own good. If she can't…No, she refuses to think about what might happen. She will find a cure. She has to. Together forever, united against life as we know it. A stupid infection won't stop that. Won't stop them.
If he's a pedophile, you are a monster
Ginger is no more. Now it's all wolf. The wolf that killed the janitor right in front of Brigitte. The one that she knows will kill Sam next.
Brigitte has never been more afraid. Never before has she had to fear Ginger. Even if she was right about the janitor and Sam being attracted to her, they hadn't done anything.
As Ginger pins her down, she begs to for Brigitte to let her turn her. She's covered in blood and gore, and her face is more lupine than human. Brigitte scans her for some sign that the Ginger she knows is still in there.
Her blue eyes are cold and predatory. The usual soft smell that clings to her is overpowered by the smell of death and blood. The love is her eyes is gone, replaced by hunger and desperation. All Brigitte can see now is a monster.
And you're the reason that I can't sleep
Brigitte will wake up in the night, panicking from nightmares. Nightmares of Ginger. Ginger dying, Ginger blaming her for everything that happened before.
Brigitte is fairly certain that she PTSD from killing her werewolf sister, but being on the run from a werewolf who wants to kill and/or mate with her doesn't give her many opportunities to seek out a decent psychiatrist.
There are times when she's convinced that Ginger had no control over what she was doing when she killed people. That it was all the wolf. There are times when she's convinced that Ginger was always a monster, and that she killed on purpose. That Brigitte had just been too blinded by love to see it.
As she shakes, from the monkshood, dreams, or both, she glances at the hotel nightstand. Sitting on it is an old photo of herself and Ginger. She feels tears prick her eyes. Whether or not Ginger had done any of it on purpose, Brigitte knows that she will still love and forgive her. Our bond is one that won't be broken.